


Good Men Go to War

by tiny_septic_box_sam



Series: Angst Fics [1]
Category: Jacksepticeye (YouTuber RPF), Markiplier (Youtuber RPF), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: AU, Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Soldier!Mark, alternate endings, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-28
Packaged: 2018-04-16 21:59:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4641732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiny_septic_box_sam/pseuds/tiny_septic_box_sam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So you’d really be able to do that?” Jack asked. “Go through all that trainin’, all those long hours, all that bad trauma?”<br/>Mark half-smiled. “I mean yeah, that’d all suck,” he agreed, “but I’d be a hero. Maybe not a big one, sure, but I’d get to do great things.”<br/>“Maybe, if you actually went into combat. That’s not guaranteed.” Jack didn’t know why he was arguing. Maybe he sensed even at the time just how deadly serious Mark was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Knock at the Door

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of:  
> otpprompts:  
> Person A thinks that Person B has died. A few years later person B returns and they hold each other for hours.

            “Are you sure this is what you want?”

            Jack and Mark were standing across from each other in the airport terminal. Jack was holding Mark’s hands protectively, as though if he held them tight enough he could prevent him from leaving.

            Mark half-chuckled and looked away from his boyfriend noncommittally. “I sure hope it is,” he muttered huskily, “or else I’m pretty screwed.”

            “C’mon, babe, be serious right now,” Jack said in annoyance.

            “You’re right, you’re right. I’m sorry.” Mark met his eyes again, the muscles in his neck working even as he tried to remain calm.

            Jack swallowed hard and fought to maintain their gaze. “You’d better fuckin’ write to me,” he said abruptly, feeling a blush creep into his cheeks. “And Skype me, if they’ll let you. They’d better fuckin’ let you.”

            Mark laughed a little. “Of course they’ll let me. I’ll talk to you whenever I get the chance.”

            “Which better be every day.”

            “You know I can’t promise that.”

            Jack bit his lip pensively. “What _can_ you promise?” he asked almost in desperation.

            Mark hesitated. Then, tentatively, he let go of one of Jack’s hands and brushed his knuckles along his cheek. Jack’s eyes fluttered closed, and he struggled not to lean into Mark’s palm.

            “I can promise you I’ll love you,” Mark murmured, the soft intimacy of his voice making Jack weak in the knees. “I love you now, and I’ll love you tomorrow, and I’ll love you every day after that until I come home. Okay?”

            Jack gulped, but he forced himself to nod. “Can…can I kiss before you go?” he asked, sounding pathetic in his own ears.

            Mark smiled a little and indulged him, pressing their lips firmly together. Jack wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s neck and pulled him closer, trying to make the moment last as long as he could. He didn’t want to let Mark go. He _couldn’t_ let Mark go.

            Mark pulled away, and Jack grappled for him blindly for a few seconds. He heard him laugh amusedly.

            “Take it easy, babe, we’re in public,” he chastised good-naturedly. “Besides, my flight’s about to leave.”

            Jack’s heart hurt. He opened his eyes and tried to bury his tears, but it was hard. He rubbed his eyes vehemently. Mark touched his wrists gently.

            “C’mon, don’t cry, it’ll be okay,” he said softly, sounding a little worse for wear himself. “This’ll all be over before we know it.”

            “It better be,” Jack said, his voice slightly thick. “I want it to be over as quick as humanly possible.”

            Mark half-smiled. “I’ll do my best to make that happen.” He glanced up at the overhead clock and then at the security line. “I’m sorry babe, I have to go.”

            Jack nodded, even though the motion felt like a death sentence. “Yeah, okay, I know,” he said anxiously. He felt like he was sending Mark off to his death. Christ, what if he _was_?!

            _You can’t think that way_ , he told himself. _Mark is going to come back. He’s coming back even if I have to march into Iraq and drag him out kicking and screaming._

Mark smiled at him and began to walk away. “I’ll Skype you as soon as I get out of basic, okay?” he said, his voice laden with kindness. His smile was as beautiful as ever, and his eyes sparkled in the sunshine filtering in through the skylights. Suddenly, Jack was overcome with the need to memorize the picture. It might be the last time he saw him in person.

            Then Mark turned on one heel and disappeared into the indefinite security line, leaving Jack to feel like the cord connecting him to the ground had been cut.

* * *

            In the army, basic training lasts ten weeks, and during that time Mark wasn’t able to Skype Jack once. This forced him to pace around their shared apartment restlessly, futilely glancing at his laptop a dozen times an hour before he finally felt like he was pulling teeth.

            “This is such _shit_!” he groaned to himself. He flung himself onto the sofa and buried his face in his hands.

            For complete lack of answers, Jack logged onto Google and typed in “How to deal with being in a military…” The option _how to deal with being a military **wife** _ popped up first, and he shrugged. Close enough.

            Most of the articles he pulled up said things like get out of the house, don’t watch the news, stay optimistic, blah blah blah. None of it said anything to cure the empty feeling in his gut, or the desperation clawing at his skin.

            It would’ve helped if he and Mark had at least been _married_. Then he might get information on his whereabouts, instead of having to hear it secondhand from his family. Would he even be allowed in the military if they were married? Come to think of it, were non-heterosexuals allowed to be in the military at _all_?

            Another Google search proved that LGB persons were allowed to be in the U.S. military. Jack frowned at the discrimination, but it at least proved that Mark wasn’t there illegally and wouldn’t have to hide their relationship from anyone. That was a big relief.

            _I really should’ve asked that before he left_ , Jack thought to himself. Hell, he should’ve asked a lot of things before Mark left, like when he’d be able to start talking to him again, and how often, and what kinds of things his service would entail once he finished training. Were they going to send him to hostile areas? For Christ’s sake, did Jack even know Mark’s full _job description_?!

            He remembered when Mark first told him that he was planning to go into service about a year ago. At the time, it hadn’t really surprised Jack. A lot of Mark’s family members had served, and he needed the money to be able to go to college.

            “Besides, it’s a way to do something important, y’know?” he remembered him saying. They’d gone out drinking that night; it was probably their fifth or sixth date, long before they’d moved in together. “It’s a way to make your life worth something, and not just sitting in an office all day.”

            Jack had nodded and took a sip of his beer. He had a somewhat differing opinion; he kind of thought of soldiers as just being more bullets for the government’s war machine. He didn’t have any kind of tragic backstory to back this up, of course; it was just his cynical opinion. But he chose not to say that to the person obviously interested in enlisting.

            “So you’d really be able to do that?” he asked instead. “Go through all that trainin’, all those long hours, all that bad trauma?”

            Mark half-smiled and stared at his cocktail. “I mean yeah, that’d all suck,” he agreed, “but I’d be a hero. Maybe not a big one, sure, but I’d get to do great things.”

            “Maybe, if you actually went into combat. That’s not guaranteed.” Jack didn’t know why he was arguing. Maybe he sensed even at the time just how deadly serious Mark was.

            Mark shrugged with a smile. “Even so, think of all the free benefits.”

* * *

            The first day Mark Skyped Jack, he found him in his pajamas.

            He’d slept in late and was eating cereal and watching a cartoon when his laptop began to play the Skype call tune. In his haste to answer it, he almost toppled his Cheerios onto the floor.

            Mark was wearing green army fatigues, and his hair was probably a half-inch tall, which was a big change from his usual longish style. _Damn_ , Jack thought. _That’s gonna take some serious gettin’ used to._

But other than that, the call seemed relatively normal. He seemed to be in a pleasant atmosphere; he was sat on a sofa next to a bookcase, a cup of coffee in his hand. Jack didn’t know what he expected; maybe a bunk room of some kind, or perhaps the windy deserts of the Middle East.

            Mark looked thrilled. “Hey babe!” he gushed, his emotions written all over his face. “Oh wow, it’s _so_ good to see you.”

            Jack could feel his blush practically radiating off of his skin. “ _Hi_!” he cried, leaning in close to the screen. “Hi, it’s good to see you too! I didn’t know you’d be callin’ today! I would’ve worn somethin’ else….” He picked at the old T-shirt sheepishly.

            “Nah babe you’re fine, you look cute…wait, is that _my_ shirt? Are you wearing my clothes?”

            Jack glanced down at it and realized with embarrassment that it _was_ Mark’s shirt. “Uh, yeah, oops. I just grabbed somethin’ outta the pile last night without lookin’.”

            That was a lie. He’d been lonely, and the shirt had still held a little bit of Mark’s cologne. But Jack wasn’t prepared to admit just how badly he missed him.

            “So how’s everythin’ goin’ down there?” Jack asked, leaning in closer. “They givin’ you hell?”

            Mark chuckled. “Yeah, of course they are, I expected that,” he replied casually. “But it’s also been awesome. I’ve met a lot of really cool people.”

            “Yeah? That’s pretty great.” Jack leaned back, feeling slightly jealous. “What’re…what’re they like?”

            “They’re all different, that’s the thing. You’d think all military people would be kind of the same, but that’s not the case. Like, I thought I’d be the only video game nerd here, but I’ve actually met a couple guys that like games.”

            “Really? That’s cool.” That had been how he and Mark met in the first place; it had been when Jack worked at GameStop and he helped Mark find a title. It didn’t slip Jack’s notice that the same raven-haired, deep-voiced geek kept coming in every day without buying anything, nor his coworkers. It had been them that pushed Jack to ask him out.

            “Yeah, it is!” Mark seemed incredibly enthusiastic for someone in his career path. Jack hadn’t known _any_ soldier could be so bubbly. “I’d introduce you to some of them, but I’ve got the rec room to myself now.”

            “Oh, really? Why’s that?”

            “It’s my turn to Skype, and I told them I wanted some privacy.”

            “Oh, I see.” Jack’s face fell a little bit, though he didn’t initially know why. He realized he was wondering if Mark was keeping their relationship a secret, and he felt somewhat offended.

            Mark seemed to realize, and he clarified, “Babe, it’s not ‘cause they don’t know I’ve got a boyfriend. I talk about you all the time.”

            Jack perked up. “Really? What do you say?”

            “Nothing much, just that I’ve got a hot sexy Irishman waiting for me back home.” Mark winked impishly, and Jack’s face burned red.

            “Oh, God, do you really say that?” He covered the lower half of his face with his hands, both embarrassed and flattered.

            “Hell yeah! They always talk about how sexy _their_ women are. No way am I not gonna talk about the love of _my_ life.”

            “Aww, babe, that’s so sweet.” Jack’s heart warmed. “I’m glad you’re havin’ such a good time. I was worried they’d treat you like shit.”

            “Nah, not really. I mean, the officers do, but it’s part of their job.” Mark shrugged airily. “Even if they mean it, they worked hard to get where they are. I mean, I’d _love_ to punch them in the balls when we do P.T., but…well, y’know.”

            Jack laughed a little. “Is it worse than your manager back home?” Before enlisting, Mark had had a terrible boss that he loved to complain about.

            Mark groaned in faux-disgust. “Oh, _God_ , don’t even remind me of him. I’m _finally free_. I’d take these guys over his hairy ass any day.”

            Jack grinned widely. “Don’t let any of your officers hear you,” he joked, “or they might up the ante.”

            “I don’t know how much higher they can up it,” Mark confessed amusedly.

            There was a beat of silence, in which time Jack’s smile faded a little as he remembered some of the questions he’d been wanting to ask.

            “So…how much more trainin’ do you need before they…send you away?” he asked nervously.

            Mark’s face smoothed over gravely. “Well, I’m not done yet,” he said seriously. “I’m done with Basic Combat Training; I’ve still got Advanced Individual Training to. But even when I get done with that, it’s not guaranteed that they’ll send me anywhere.”

            “Who’s it up to?”

            Mark half-smiled. “Obama.”

            Jack couldn’t help laughing. “Is it _really_?!”

            “Yeah, I’m serious! He’s the Commander in Chief! They didn’t make you test over presidential duties when you became a citizen?”

            “Probably, but I don’t fuckin’ remember.” Jack knew a decent amount of the American government system, but he’d had no idea that the President was even involved in military decisions. His citizenship test seemed like decades ago, even though it was probably only a year or two. Ever since moving in with Mark, America felt like it had always been his home.

            And now he was gone, shipped off to some indefinable part of the country where he couldn’t be reached. Jack swallowed hard, suddenly feeling as though cement were coating his throat.

            “So anyway, hopefully I’ll be able to let you know if anything like that happens,” Mark went on, and Jack tried to pretend that he was okay. “They might not give me any warning. But if everything goes okay I should be home in time for Thanksgiving.”

            “That’s good.” Jack tried to smile convincingly. Based on the look on Mark’s face, he seemed to be doing a pretty good job.

            Mark winked at him and said, “Don’t worry about me too much. I’m doing just fine down here.” Then he leaned forward and rested his chin in his hands. “Now tell me, how’re things going back home? I miss hearing your stories.”

* * *

            Mark didn’t make it home in time for Thanksgiving.

            About two weeks after he finished his AIT, a process which he melodramatically described as “the deepest, fieriest hell you can possibly imagine,” he and several others were scheduled to be sent off. Mark did get the chance to Skype him the night before, on a lucky break.

            “I’m so sorry, babe,” Mark lamented that night, all of his bubbliness from their first conversation gone. “I’ll be able to write to you, I think. I doubt I’ll be able to Skype though.”

            Jack nodded through it all, even though it felt like every one of his organs were shutting down one by one.

            “No, it’s fine, I understand,” he lied, his throat feeling dry and cottony. “Just…just do whatever you can.” He gulped tightly and asked, “Do you know where you’re going?”

            “Yeah, I do…but I’m not allowed to say.”

            Jack’s heart sickened. He dropped his head. “Oh…okay.”

            “Is it okay? Are you sure?”

            “Yeah, it—it’s fine.”

            Mark’s face fell. “You don’t have to lie,” he muttered, almost too quietly to hear. “I can tell you’re upset.”

            There was no use pretending. Jack squeezed his eyes shut, and a few traitorous tears escaped. He didn’t wipe them away.

            “I just…I’m so _terrified_ , Mark,” he confessed thickly. “You’re goin’ off to…off to the middle of fuckin’ _nowhere_ , and I…how am I supposed to feel?”

            He opened his eyes and looked at Mark, who looked incredibly guilty. Jack’s heart ached; he shouldn’t have said anything.

            “I know, you’re right…you’re right to be nervous. I am too.” He sighed and ran his fingers along the top of his head in a way that made Jack think he was motioning to tug on his formerly-long hair. Old habits die hard. “But hey, if it makes you feel any better, I _am_ trained for this. They’ve hardened me up to face anything they can throw at me.”

            Jack’s first instinct was to make the joke, _What’re they throwin’ at you that’s gonna harden you up?_ , but he wasn’t in the mood. He nodded wearily. “Yeah, I understand,” he mumbled, struggling to meet his boyfriend’s eyes.

            “Please relax, Jack,” Mark begged. “Everything’ll be okay. I promise.”

            Jack nodded. He gulped. “I love you,” he blurted, the words cracking in his throat. “I love you so much, and I—”

            “I love you too, babe, but please,” Mark said desperately, “don’t say it like it’s goodbye.”

* * *

            Jack received three letters in total after that. Of them, Mark sent two.

            The first one came about a month after their last Skype call, the interval between which was the longest, slowest torture of Jack’s life. He paced back and forth, he either overate or skipped meals altogether, he spaced out at work. All of his coworkers seemed to be taking pity on him, and they either took over his workload when he was too distracted to stock shelves or offered to take him out to dinner. At first he rejected their offers, but as lonely nights wore on into lonelier weeks, he started agreeing. They were fun little reprieves every now and then, but every time they ended and Jack went back to the apartment alone, it was like another punch in the stomach.

            “Why don’t you stay with a friend?” Kaley—the coworker he was closest to—suggested after he confided this to her. “Or what about a family member?”

            “That’d be nice, but I don’t have any family that lives in the States. And as for friends—” Jack chuckled derisively. “—I don’t have a whole lot of ‘em that’d be cool with me crashin’ on their couch.”

            Kaley smiled. “I wouldn’t mind,” she offered kindly.

            Jack looked at her in surprise and admiration. “Really? You’d do that for me?”

            “Yeah, it’d be fun! Plus I need a new roommate anyway. Mine’s leaving to go to school abroad soon.”

            The offer was appealing. It meant having someone to go back to at night instead of rolling around in the achingly empty space in his bed. Jack nodded. “I’d actually really appreciate that, thank you.”

            “No problem. You can stay as long as you want.” She smirked and elbowed him playfully. “As long as you keep paying the rent, anyway.”

            Jack went home that night to pack some things, and it was a good thing he did, because he got his first letter from Mark in the mailbox. He almost dropped everything else when he saw the handwritten scrawl on the slightly tarnished envelope.

            He’d raced up to the kitchen to read it, gnawing on his lower lip with an anxiety like he’d never felt before. He didn’t bother preserving the envelope; it had practically been reduced to shreds by the time he finally got to the note inside.

 

            _Dear Jack,_

_I don’t know when you’ll get this, but right now it’s the fifth of August. We got here about four days ago. So far we haven’t been in any kind of combat. We’ve had to move around a lot though to try and not get found out. The guy who mails these letters has to do it from some kind of safe location. It’s a blessing that we get to send them at all._

_It’s freaky down here. I can’t tell you too much about where I’m at, but it’s definitely not a friendly area. There’ve been lots of attacks going on, and the people here are getting desperate. Our mission is to offer aid, mostly. I just hope we’ll be able to give it._

_Doom and gloom aside, the people I’m with are pretty nice. A few of my friends from basic are here, including the guy that likes video games. Too bad they don’t have an Xbox down here. He was wicked good at Call of Duty. I miss playing with you, though. I always won. :)_ _J_

_I hope everything’s going okay back home and that you’re not too lonely. Like I said, I don’t know how long it takes these letters to reach you, but I’ll send them as quickly and as often as I can._

_I miss you so much, Jack, and I love you more than I could ever say._

_Stay safe and don’t forget to write back._

_-Mark_

* * *

            Jack sent a letter back from Kaley’s address shortly after he moved in with her. He’d wanted to reply right away but had no idea what to say. It needed to be good, he knew, but he’d never been great with words.

            He couldn’t remember exactly what he said in the letter. It was probably jumbled and disorganized and didn’t make much sense.

            Staying with Kaley was a good decision, he soon found. She was a good roommate; she cleaned up messes, traded chores fairly, and could cook well with their budget. She had a habit of taking long showers, and the paranormal investigation shows she watched were almost laughable in their ridiculousness (“But they’re _real_ , Jack! Don’t be such a skeptic!”), but overall Jack was grateful for her company.

            He received his second letter from Mark about a month after the first, addressed to their shared apartment. (He stopped by every week or so to collect mail and make sure a pipe hadn’t burst or anything.) He’d wanted to open it right there in the kitchen, but he was overcome by inexplicable nerves and decided to wait until he was back at Kaley’s.

            He sat down on her couch while she made the two of them tea, politely remaining in the kitchen while he digested the letter.

 

            _Dear Jack,_

_Things have gotten intense down here. Again, I can’t really say much, which sucks because I really want to just tell you everything. But let’s just say we’re getting shot at now…daily. It’s not a pleasant feeling._

_The people down here are in some serious s***. (I don’t know if I have to censor stuff in these letters but I don’t want to risk it getting tossed out if I do.) I knew there were impoverished areas all over the world, but I never really got it until I saw it. I can’t describe what it’s like seeing them. We give the people as much supplies as we can without endangering them. Our camp is basically a painted target for any “malicious activity”, so we have to move a lot so that civilians have less of a chance of getting caught in the crossfire. It doesn’t prevent it completely though._

_Some of us have died, but it hasn’t been very heavy, thank God. It’s not like the wars that we read about in history class where hundreds of people were picked off per day. You can thank modern weapons and strategies for that. Most of the time it’s a lot of sneaking around and playing the waiting game. We wait to move, wait to fire, wait to get shot, wait to go back to bed, wait to go home. It sort of drives you crazy._

_I can’t say this isn’t what I wanted, because I am helping a lot of people. But the rest of it kind of blows. I’m excited to go back home and see you. I don’t know when they’ll let me go, but if nothing goes wrong, it should be sometime within the next few months._

_I love you so much. I finally got your letter back. Please keep writing them. I look forward to reading them more than anything else in the world._

_-Mark_

            Politely, Kaley asked if she could read the letter. Jack allowed her to, feeling somewhat numbed and hollow. When he compared the two letters, it sounded like things had really gone to hell since Mark mailed his last one.

            “Damn,” Kaley murmured, “that’s intense.” She glanced at Jack with a tight expression. “I never took him for the army type, y’know?”

            “Neither did I…he’s wanted it for as long as I’ve known him, though.” Which, regrettably, wasn’t even that long. What was a year in the grand scheme of things, anyway? Jack suddenly felt like his stomach was caving in.

            It must’ve shown on his face, because Kaley leaned forward and shushed him. “Hey, breathe. It’s gonna be okay. I promise, Jack.” She squeezed his shoulder and offered him a smile.

            Jack nodded, even though her promise was next to meaningless. She couldn’t control what happened to Mark in Buttfuck, God-Knows-Where, where apparently the civilians were starving and the enemies were shooting to kill. Still, he did his best to return her smile.

            “Want me to get started on dinner?” Kaley proposed, sounding falsely chipper. “I’ll even make your favorite dessert.”

            Jack nodded, more vigorously this time. He’d become a real sucker for her homemade chocolate cake.

* * *

            The third letter wasn’t mailed to Jack directly.

            It was almost two months after the second letter had been sent. Jack tormented over the long stretch of time for as long as his body was capable of, but he seemed to hit a wall after a while. It wasn’t that the worry went away; it just seemed to be more than his psyche could take, and he grew numb to the silence. He went about his day as normal: go to work, do a little exercise here and there, play a video game with Kaley from time to time, check up on his apartment. At the very least, he was able to sleep more than two hours a night, but he didn’t know if his numbness to Mark’s silence was a good sign or not.

            It was December when the letter arrived. Christmas was a few weeks away, and everybody was innately wondering if they’d hear from Mark simply for the festivity.

            “They might give him Christmas off automatically,” Kaley remarked one evening, trying to be optimistic. “They do that for first-year recruits, right?”

            Jack half-smiled at her. “I hope so,” he said genuinely, “but I dunno if it holds true for people that get sent overseas. I have no idea how that’s handled.” He could add that to the list of things he should’ve thought to ask before Mark left.

            A few days after that exchange, he got a call from Mark’s mother while he was at work. Normally he would keep his phone in the back per company policy, but there were few customers that day and the manager didn’t seem to care. His brow knitted when he saw the caller ID, and he could automatically feel an anxious feeling start to roll in his gut.

            He glanced up at the manager and showed the phone screen to him. When he saw the last name, he nodded quickly in assent. Jack hit answer and speed-walked into the breakroom.

            “Yes, hello? This is Jack.”

            He heard a wet sniffle, and his pulse spiked so hard he almost felt dizzy.

            “Jack? Hi. Hi, I’m so glad you picked up.” Mark’s mom sounded like she’d been crying for a long time before she called.

            “What is it? What’s gone wrong?” Jack felt sick. He glanced around for the trash can, because he was sure that in any moment he was going to puke.

            “Oh God, Jack, I just don’t know what to do…!”

            “Is he dead?” he asked hoarsely, his voice dropping to half its normal volume. “Please, just tell me…is he dead?”

            There was a pause. Jack didn’t want the answer. He didn’t want the answer. He didn’t want the answer. He didn’t—

            “They don’t know,” Mark’s mom whispered forlornly. “They say he’s missing.”

* * *

            Jack, in fact, did end up puking. He puked up every last bit of his breakfast, feeling as though his stomach was turning inside out. Everything was coming out, every last bit of himself. He wanted it all gone. He wanted to throw it all up.

            His coworkers heard him retching and came running. Kaley was the only one who was comfortable enough with him to pull him away from the trash can. As soon as he looked her in the face, he immediately began to cry.

            “He’s gone,” he kept moaning. “He’s gone, he’s gone, he’s gone, he’s gone, he’s gone!”

            Kaley went white, thinking he was confirmed to be dead. Later, when she’d gotten permission from the manager to drive him home, she called Mark’s family and learned the truth.

            “He’s hurting,” she said anxiously to Mark’s mother. She was pacing in the living room and could hear his muffled sobbing through his closed bedroom door. “He’s freaking out, I don’t know what to do.”

            “He needs confirmation that he’s alive,” Mrs. Fischbach said forlornly.

            “Well how do we get that?” Kaley demanded.

            “We wait until he gets found.”

* * *

            The next morning, Jack shuffled into the kitchen, his eyes rimmed like a raccoon’s. Kaley looked at him grimly over her cereal.

            “Did you sleep last night?” she asked. He shook his head wordlessly, his eyes locked on the swirling woodgrain of the kitchen table.

            Kaley set down her spoon. “I called his mother yesterday,” she stated flatly. “She said you can stay with them until they hear s’more news.”

            Jack glanced up at her as though he didn’t speak English. “They…what?” he asked hoarsely. “You don’t want me to stay here anymore…?”

            Kaley sighed. “I don’t mind if you do,” she answered gently. “I want you to do whatever’s best for you. But I don’t know Mark. I can’t share your worry for him. I thought it might help you if you were with people who could.”

            Jack nodded and chewed on his thumbnail. Kaley noticed that his nails were much shorter and bloodier than they were yesterday. She reached over and gently pulled his hand back down to the tabletop.

            “Yeah…you might be right.” He smiled at her, but his eyes looked empty and lost. “Plus, they’ll mail any information about him to his folks’ place, I guess.”

            Kaley nodded. “I’ll call us both into work for the weekend and help you move your stuff.”

            Jack looked at her in surprise. “But she lives all the way in Ohio,” he blurted. He meant to say _You don’t have to do that for me_ , but it didn’t come out right.

            Kaley understood anyway. “I don’t care,” she said matter-of-factly. “I want to make sure you’ll be okay.”

* * *

            Mrs. Fischbach practically squeezed Jack to death when she first saw him.

            “Oh my God, you look terrible!” she exclaimed when she got a good look at his face. “Here, come in. Set down your stuff in the living room and get in the shower. I’m making dinner right now.”

            Kaley dropped off Jack’s things, made sure he had her number, and left. Jack obediently took his shower. He spent the majority of his time standing motionless under the warm spray and staring at the worn-in tub. He wondered how many times Mark had used this shower. Mark had been all over this house. For all Jack knew, this was the place he grew up in. Would he ever get to see it again? Jack’s chest felt tight, and his eyes began to burn. He gulped hard and stepped out of the shower.

            Mrs. Fischbach had brought his suitcase into the bathroom. It was strange to think about her being in the room while Jack showered, but he didn’t think about it too much. He put on a soft shirt and a pair of jeans and walked into the kitchen.

            Mrs. Fischbach was laying out bowls of what looked like stew. It smelled amazing, and Jack smiled genuinely for the first time in a few days. “That looks delicious.”

            “Thank you, it’s—” She looked up at him and paled.

            Jack’s smile vanished. “Is everythin’—?” He looked down at himself and realized with a pang that he was wearing another one of Mark’s shirts. Damn, didn’t he have any of his own clothes?! “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize—”

            “No, no, it’s fine. Don’t apologize,” she replied, composing herself. “Go ahead, sit down.”

            Jack obeyed and took a bite of the soup. It was hot, but it tasted wonderful. He smiled. “I love this,” he said honestly. “I’m so used to eatin’ takeout all the time.”

            Mrs. Fischbach chuckled. “Thank you. It’s nice to have someone eating here with me.”

            It hit Jack how lonely she probably was. Both of her sons were grown and gone, and her husband had died many years ago. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Um, well…thank you for letting me come and stay here durin’…all this. I, uh…I really needed someone who understood.”

            “It’s no trouble!” She smiled at him, but her eyes were sad. “I need you just as much as you need me right now.”

* * *

            Jack’s stay, which he predicted would only be a week or two, ended up being almost two or three months.

            Mrs. Fischbach was good company. She was a fabulous cook, and her house was beautiful. Jack also fell in love with her dogs, who loped about the property and frequently approached him to be petted. He felt like a stranger in her home at first, but after a while he became as much a part of it as the dogs. They played tabletop games, watched movies, ran errands. On a few occasions Jack made grocery runs for her.

            “If I’m gonna be stayin’ here, I feel like I should get a job,” Jack told her once they realized how long that stay would be.

            “That isn’t necessary,” she replied nonchalantly. “I don’t mind housing you, it’s a pleasure.”

            “But it doesn’t seem right,” he argued. He was dusting the living room furniture while she read a magazine. “I’m eatin’ your food, usin’ your water…I wanna repay you somehow.”

            She shrugged at him and smiled. “Well, if you’re stubborn about it, the grocery store is always hiring.”

            Jack got a job at Kroger a few days later. He missed GameStop and the people there, with whom he had much more in common, but it was a living. He certainly felt better now that he was giving Mrs. Fischbach half of his paycheck.

            The subject of Mark, however, remained painful. As the time stretched on with no word on him, he and Mrs. Fischbach grew more and more agitated. One night, while they were watching a late-night movie, he happened to glance at her and realized she was crying.

            “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked suddenly. She jumped and wiped her eyes, looking embarrassed.

            “Oh, I just…I’m just worried, Jack. I’m worried about him.” She stared at her hands, unable to meet his gaze. “I’ve…I’ve already lost one of my boys…I couldn’t bear to lose two.”

            Jack’s heart broke for her, and he wordlessly put an arm around her shoulders. She allowed it, and she cried quietly while the movie flickered on a few feet away.

* * *

            It was about two-and-a-half months after Mark’s disappearance when the world ended.

            Jack was in the kitchen on his day off. He alternated between washing dishes and patting the dogs’ heads while they circled around him, yipping at each other. Mrs. Fischbach was in the yard watering the grass. When Jack didn’t think about why he was there, it almost felt peaceful, like he was in some kind of countryside cabin. He could certainly get used to the dogs, the property, and Mrs. Fischbach’s cooking.

            Then, out of the blue, there was a hard knock on the front door. Jack jumped, almost dropping the plate he was washing, while the dogs ran at breakneck speed to greet the stranger. Jack dried his shaking hands and heard the knock again.

            He glanced outside and saw that Mrs. Fischbach was still watering the lawn. He doubted she’d heard it, so he decided to answer it himself. He followed the dogs to the front room, where they stood jumping and barking at the door.

            He made a path through them and turned the knob, trying to calm the beating of his heart. “Fischbach residence,” he said at the last minute.

            The door opened. Jack’s heart stopped.

 

_Alternate ending #1 – Chapter 2_

_Alternate ending #2 – Chapter 3_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Angst! (Because that's all I know how to fucking write.)
> 
> So this work will have 2 alternate endings, which is cool. This is mostly because I didn't know which ending I liked better. Those will be posted very soon. :)
> 
> Comments and constructive criticism are always appreciated! Just be polite. :)


	2. Alternate Ending #1

            The door opened. Jack’s heart stopped.

            The visitor was wearing a formal army uniform. His raven hair was just barely long enough to be floppy again, and his dark eyes were wide and a little bit scared. The dogs swarmed him, barking and jumping, but he ignored them as if they were ghosts. He was staring at Jack in blatant shock.

            “Holy shit, it’s _you_! I…I didn’t know you’d be here,” Mark stammered faintly.

            Jack gulped hard. He felt numb all over, like his body was shutting down. His lips felt wriggly and useless.

            “M-Mark…?” he managed through his pathetic tongue. “Is that…?”

            Mark nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving Jack’s face. “Yeah, it is, it’s me….” He licked his lips and cleared his throat hesitantly, then added, “I…I’m home.”

            Something inside Jack’s chest burst, and suddenly he was bawling. His knees seemed to give up and he felt himself begin to tumble to the floor, but Mark darted forward at lightning speed and wrapped his arms around his torso, pressing them together and offering his support.

            “Hey, don’t cry, please don’t cry…,” Mark murmured, rubbing Jack’s back while he lost it like a little baby. “It’s okay, it’s okay, I’m right here, you don’t have to worry anymore, I’m home now, I’m okay….”

            “Oh _God_ , Mark, thank God, thank fuckin’ God, oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!” Jack sobbed, each word twisting his gut. “Oh my God, Mark, I thought I’d—I thought, I-I-I thought—”

            “I know, I know Jack, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” Jack could hear Mark’s voice breaking and he thought he might’ve caught him say something like “oh God not me too” before his back began to shake, and Jack knew he was crying right alongside him.

            Jack wondered if they should break apart and maybe find someplace else to have their tearful reunion, but he couldn’t seem to bring himself to break the embrace. It had been _so long_ since he saw Mark, and at this point he’d even supposed him to be dead. But he wasn’t. _He wasn’t_. He was _finally home_. Jack squeezed him tighter, even though he assumed he was probably suffocating him. He didn’t care. He continued to cry into his shoulder, because he couldn’t stop. The emotions weren’t letting up.

            He couldn’t let Mark go.

* * *

            When Mrs. Fischbach came inside and saw that her son was home, the two of them had their own weepy embrace that lasted for a long time. Then she declared, “I don’t want to hear any stories yet. I want tonight to be special, okay?” She then raced to the kitchen. “I’m going to make your favorite supper, okay? You go shower, change clothes, whatever you like! We’re going to be a family again!”

            It was adorable to watch her bustling about the kitchen, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she mixed ingredients. Every once in a while she’d stop and stare at the wall for a few moments, lost in thought, before she’d come back to life and start cooking like a maniac again.

            The meal was delicious. Every single bite left a ringing taste in Jack’s mouth that almost made him want to moan. The conversation was delightful; any strange awkwardness that may have been left after Mark’s absence was gone due to Mrs. Fischbach’s encouragement and obvious bliss at having her son home again. It was one of the best meals Jack had ever eaten.

            Afterwards, when the stars were out and twinkling in all the windows, Mark and Jack migrated to the couch and put a movie on while she showered and got ready for bed. Neither of them paid a lick of attention to what was happening onscreen. As soon as they sat down, Mark pulled Jack into a tight sidearm embrace, and Jack more-than-willingly nestled his head on his shoulder and wrapped an arm around his waist. He breathed in the scent of the big, fluffy hoodie Mark had put on in exchange for his starchy military coat. When they laid like this, Jack’s eyes closed as he surrounded himself with his boyfriend’s presence, it was almost easy to forget the last several months of hell.

            Mark remained relatively still for the first fifteen minutes or so, and Jack wondered if he’d fallen asleep. Then, abruptly, he felt Mark stand up; it was so abrupt that Jack hit the sofa facedown. He sat up disgruntledly.

            “Mark, what’re you—?”

            “ _Mom_?!” Mark yelled across the house. “ _Are you out of the shower_?!”

            “Yes!” came her faint reply from upstairs.

            “Do you mind if I go to bed? I’m getting tired!”

            “That’s just fine, go right ahead!”

            Jack was a little disheartened that Mark was going off to be alone, but he didn’t want to fault him, because for all he knew he was exhausted. But Mark bent down and pulled Jack almost roughly to his feet, his face somewhat pale and very nervous.

            “What’s wrong?” Jack asked worriedly, his heart beginning to pound. More bad news? No, please no, he couldn’t deal with that right now.

            Mark shook his head. “Nothing. C’mon, follow me.” He pulled Jack through the living room and up the stairs to the first bedroom on the right. It was a very ladylike guest room, with framed pictures of boats and flowers on the walls and lacey curtains draped over the windows. Jack stood in the middle of the room, staring at the green queen-sized bed while Mark shut the door behind him.

            “Was this…your old room?” he asked. He’d been staying in the other guest room (equally feminine, but with a soft pink color scheme rather than mossy green).

            “Yeah,” Mark said behind him. “When Thomas and I moved out she flipped our rooms. It was kinda weird, really.”

            Jack chuckled. He turned and faced Mark, who was standing next to the door and breathing hard.

            “I think my old room’s a study now,” he offered. Mark nodded wordlessly and walked up to him. He took Jack’s hands and squeezed them, tracing patterns on the palms.

            “Listen, Jack, I….” Mark stared into his eyes and gulped, and Jack’s pulse kicked up again.

            “Is everythin’ okay?” he asked anxiously. Mark nodded hurriedly.

            “Yeah, everything’s fine. I just, I guess I…well, I missed you, I….” He gulped and shook his head a little forcefully. “God, I’m sorry, I’m fucking it all up, I’m just nervous.”

            “You’re fuckin’ what—?” Jack started to ask, but Mark interrupted him by colliding against him and kissing him deeply.

            Jack’s heartrate tripled, but it wasn’t due to fear. He was overcome by just how much he’d _missed_ this: the feeling of Mark’s mouth against his, the way he tasted, the way he smelled, the way his body moved when he kissed him like this when they were all alone. Jack kissed back with vigor, making it obvious that he was enjoying himself. Mark took the hint and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s torso, eliminating any gaps that remained between them.

            They kissed like that for a solid few moments, during which time Mark deepened the moment by exploring the inside of Jack’s mouth with his tongue. Any coherent thought that was shared between them was almost gone. Jack, getting bolder, wrapped his arms around Mark’s waist and let his fingers explore him at will, traveling up his back and down his ass and thighs. Mark made a smothered sound of agreement and seemed to press them together even further, shoving Jack backwards until the backs of his knees hit the bed.

            Down they fell, Jack lying flat on his back while Mark pinned him from above. The latter lifted himself up and stared down, almost as if he were about to do push-ups. Jack saw how flushed his face was and wondered if he looked that way too.

            “Is this…okay?” Mark asked breathlessly, biting his lip self-consciously in a way that made Jack long to bite it for him. “I mean, I’m not…I’m not overstepping some kind of line or…or something, am I?”

            Jack shook his head, his brow furrowed. “What’re you talkin’ about?” he murmured, his voice filled of hunger. “Of course this is okay. I’m a big boy, and I’m _more_ than consenting.”

            Mark smirked a little, but it was short-lived. “I just….” He sighed and crawled onto the bed, lying a foot or so above Jack. Jack shuffled up so that they were at eye-level.

            “You just what?” Jack urged. Mark gulped, too embarrassed to meet Jack’s eye.

            “I just…I feel like I’m doing something…wrong,” he sighed. “And I know that’s stupid, because it’s _obvious_ you’re into this—” Jack blushed a little. He really needed to work on his self-control. “—but I just…I’m kind of wondering if this—if _I’m_ really what’s best for you.”

            Jack’s brow furrowed deeply. “Where the hell is this comin’ from?” he demanded.

            Mark shrugged, staring at the coverlet pensively. “I mean, I know I hurt you when I went into service…,” he said achingly. “And I know I _really_ hurt you when I got sent into combat…and it was awful, I can’t even tell you how awful it was. I got to do what I wanted, but…but at what _cost_ ….”

            Jack nodded somberly. He couldn’t imagine the hell that Mark must’ve seen out in the field.

            “And then I…I was in this little rescue group, we were trying to deliver some provisions to this village, it was just a normal mission, but…we got ambushed. They knew we were coming.” He gulped, his eyes still trained on the coverlet, but he was watching a completely different scene. “We-we don’t know how they knew, but…they surprised us. They shot two of our men down, the rest of us got away, but…but we got scattered, we panicked and didn’t remember any of our training, we’re so fucking stupid—”

            “Mark, please,” Jack interrupted sadly, “please don’t blame yourself. You’re in no way responsible for what happened.”

            He gulped, still staring off into the memory. “Even so…we were lost, all of us separately, in this giant-ass desert…and I didn’t see anyone for a _goddamn month_ , and I don’t even know how I survived, I ate the stuff I had and the shitty little creatures I caught and I almost dehydrated myself to death a few times…and when I finally got spotted by an aircraft, they told me they thought I was dead, that there were only two of us who survived, two out of…out of seven….” He shook his head, locking his jaw. “And how…how is that fair?! How is that fair to the other men, the ones who deserved to live, the ones who had so much more—?!”

            “Mark, Mark, shhh, it’s okay,” Jack said quickly, because it looked like he was on the verge of breaking down. He cupped Mark’s face and forced him to meet his stare, and the cloudiness in Mark’s eyes seemed to clear. “It’s not fair, it isn’t at all, but you _did_ deserve to survive just as much as they did. Please don’t forget that.”

            Mark nodded, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. “You’re—you’re right,” he stuttered hoarsely. “But I…I know you thought I was dead…Mom did too, and it makes sense because I was gone for so long, and I couldn’t write to you guys, I couldn’t give _anybody_ any word that I was alive…and as soon as they found me they sent me home to ‘recuperate’ or whatever, I don’t care, I’m just so glad to be back. I can’t go back there, Jack, I just can’t do it!”

            His chin quivered, and Jack pulled him in and let him bury his face in his shoulder. But he didn’t cry, much to Jack’s surprise. He laid there for a minute or two while he regained his composure, then he leaned back, breathing deeply and deliberately.

            “But I guess I’m saying…I’m scared now, Jack. I left you for so long. I didn’t want to, I didn’t mean to…but I know it hurt you, and I don’t think that I deserve for you to forgive me for that. I don’t think—”

            “Mark, there’s nothing to forgive you _for_ ,” Jack insisted gently. “You didn’t plan any of that. It was your career. I knew what I was signin’ up for when I agreed to stay with you in the military. I knew what might happen. But I…I was willin’ to take that risk.” He shivered a little, his heart beginning to beat fast again. “I was willin’ because I…I love you, Mark. I love you enough to stay with you no matter what.”

            Mark’s eyes softened. “You mean that?” he whispered.

            Jack nodded. “Of course I do.”

            Mark absorbed this information, then leaned in and brushed Jack’s lips experimentally. Jack nodded, trying to be encouraging, and he deepened the kiss, leaning into Mark and stroking his back.

            Mark relaxed, coming alive again. He ran his hand through Jack’s hair and pulled his head closer, entwining his body to his now that they were laying on the bed. Jack ran his hand up Mark’s hoodie, taking great pleasure in feeling every newly-defined muscle in his torso. Basic training had really done him justice.

            “I’m…I’m so glad I’m back,” Mark said breathlessly, his lips brushing against Jack’s as he lifted his shirt and hoodie and gave his boyfriend a lot more skin to explore. “I missed you, Jack, I missed this. I missed having you with me here, I missed kissing you, I—”

            Jack silenced him with a deeper kiss, gnawing on Mark’s lip the way he’d wanted to for several minutes.

            “I missed you too,” Jack murmured, pressing his hands flat against Mark’s chest and feeling every bump and curve. “I missed listening to you. I missed hearing your voice. I missed holding you. I’ve missed everything about you so, so much.”

            Mark nodded, his hands snaking up under Jack’s T-shirt and running his fingertips over all of the spots he knew made him shiver. Jack twisted a little, pressing himself against Mark’s touch. He _especially_ missed being driven crazy like this. He didn’t know how much he missed it until now.

            He knew some tricks too. He pressed their hips together and began kissing along Mark’s jawline, leaving a trail that ended just beneath his earlobe. He listened to Mark and felt him writhe beneath him, and his heart pounded harder.

            “Did you miss any of this?” Jack murmured boldly. He let Mark feel his tongue on the soft skin of his neck to egg out an answer.

            “I missed _all_ of this,” Mark answered almost immediately, his hands migrating to Jack’s thighs. Jack felt his fingertips digging into the waistband of his jeans, and he helped him with the button and zipper.

            “I missed it too. I missed _you_ , Mark. I missed you so much.” Jack kicked off his jeans and began to work on Mark’s pajama pants. They were much easier to remove. He decided to tone down the lust of the moment and stared into Mark’s deep, dark eyes. Both of them were breathing hard.

            Mark smiled, and it was a relaxed, genuine smile that Jack hadn’t seen since he was deployed.

            “Jack, I just want you to know…I’m never leaving you again,” he vowed. Jack’s breath caught in his throat. “I’m serious. I could barely handle it. I was such a wreck without you. Sure, I managed, and I got to live my dream…but never again. I’m never doing that again.”

            Jack gulped, trying to control his excitement. “Do you…can you really promise that?” he asked, trying to remain dubious before his hopes got out of control.

            Mark nodded. He stared at Jack with pure adoration. “I never want to leave your life again, Jack. I want to stay with you…forever.”

            Jack’s heart swelled, and he almost started crying again. His eyes welled up and he covered his mouth with one hand. Mark reached up and pulled him into an embrace, kissing his cheek, shoulder, and whatever other available skin he could find while Jack cried for the second time that day.

            They didn’t end up having sex. After an indefinite amount of time spent embracing, crying, and saying “I love you” over and over, Mark pulled up the coverlet and burrowed the two of them in the blankets. They laid intertwined, touching every available inch of each other, bare save for their boxers. Jack fell asleep with his head buried in Mark’s shoulder, feeling his boyfriend’s lips and stirring breath on his forehead, and they laid curled up like spoons hoping that tomorrow never came.

            “Do you really mean that?” Jack whispered faintly, just on the verge of sleep. “You really wanna be with me forever?”

            Mark nodded, and he whispered back with a sleep-filled voice, “Forever and ever, Jack McLoughlin. There’s nowhere else I’d want to go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAY! FLUFF ENDING! FLUFF ENDING IS GOOD! FLUFF ENDING LOVES YOU!
> 
> This was a lot of fun to write. I knew I wanted to do some sexy things in this chapter, but I also wanted it to be emotional. I think I struck the happy medium I was looking for. (Plus I don't really wanna write true smut. Even this much makes me slightly uncomfortable, but hey, I'm doing just fine.)
> 
> Comments and constructive criticism are always appreciated! Just be polite! :)
> 
> Be on the lookout for the alternate ending, coming whenever I'm not busy!!!


	3. Alternate Ending #2

            The door opened. Jack’s heart stopped.

            Two military officers stood in the frame. They looked fairly identical: same crew cuts, same square jaws, same muscular torsos, same grim expressions. The taller one cleared his throat and asked, “Is this the Fischbach residence?”

            Jack nodded, his heart beginning to pound. “Um…yes? Who’s asking?”

            The man shifted his weight a little. “My name is Sergeant Copper. This is my partner, Sergeant Twill.” Copper looked at the other man, who nodded politely.

            “And who might you be, son?” Twill asked, leaning forward a little.

            “Uh, I—I’m Sean McLoughlin.”

            “Did you know a Mark Fischbach?”

            “Y-yes I do, he’s…he’s my boyfriend.”

            Twill and Copper exchanged a weighted glance. “Would you care to show us inside?” Copper inquired calmly. “You may want to hear what we have to say.”

            His feet feeling heavy, Jack led the two sergeants into the living room and hailed Mrs. Fischbach in from the backyard. She went white when she saw the two officials sitting on her sofa.

            “How can I help you?” she asked in a trembling voice. Copper introduced the two of them and gestured for her to sit. She did, and Jack pulled up a chair next to her, leaning onto his knees and bouncing his feet anxiously.

            “May I ask what you’re doing here?” Mrs. Fischbach demanded somewhat fearfully to the men.

            Twill drummed his fingers on his leg a little nervously. “You are the mother of Mark Fischbach, correct?”

            “Yes, that’s me. Is something wrong with him?”

            The two sergeants glanced at each other heavily again. Jack’s jaw clenched and he blurted, “Go on, tell us.”

            Copper sighed and turned to the pair of them. “Mark Fischbach’s body was found about thirty miles from his intended rendezvous point when he went missing three months ago. He is confirmed to have died of starvation.”

* * *

            Jack felt cold.

            Mrs. Fischbach immediately broke into sobs. There was no delay on her grief.

            But Jack didn’t cry. He didn’t even feel the _urge_ to cry. He simply felt cold all over, from his skin to his bones to his lungs. He slowly lowered his head into himself, feeling strangely translucent, and icy to his core.

            Copper and Twill turned to Mrs. Fischbach with pity. “We’re incredibly sorry, ma’am,” Twill said to her somberly.

            _They probably do this every day_ , Jack thought tonelessly. _They probably tell families this every day._ They didn’t know Mark. To them, he was just another statistic. He was just another stop on their list. He wasn’t a person to them. Jack suddenly felt angry at them for being the ones to deliver the news. They didn’t even bear its weight. How _dare_ they appropriate his pain?

            “Is there anythin’ else we should know?” Jack asked sharply, surprising himself with the venom in his tone. The sergeants looked at him in surprise.

            “Um…well, his remains will be transported back to you in about two days,” Copper said placidly. “From there you will be given full control of his funeral service.”

            Mrs. Fischbach was rocking back and forth with her chair, her body rattling with sobs. She gave no indication that she’d heard them.

            Twill glanced at Jack and shifted uncomfortably. “Is there anything else that you may want to ask?” he asked. “Anything that you might need before we go?”

            Jack tightened his hands into fists. They were trying to _leave_?! Just drop that news into their laps and run?!

            “No, there _isn’t_ ,” he growled, and Twill leaned back a little in surprise. “You can go if you want.”

            Twill glanced at Copper and stood up. He glanced at Mrs. Fischbach with a piteous frown.

            “Call if you need anything, ma’am,” he murmured, leaving what Jack supposed was a business card on the table. He and Copper nodded and loped out the door, shutting it softly.

            Mrs. Fischbach raised her head, her face streaked with glistening tears.

            “Oh, Jack,” she wailed, looking at him despairingly. “Oh, _God_ , Jack, what do we do now?”

            Jack’s chest was slowly beginning to compress, cracking the ice that had formed there. Liquid nitrogen had been poured into his veins, and now the weight of the world was threatening to shatter him into pieces.

            “I…I don’t know,” he whispered, his voice brittle and parched. “I don’t know.”

* * *

            The funeral was held that Saturday.

            Many of Mark’s extended family came. Jack knew exactly none of them, except for Thomas, who wore a black pinstripe suit and clung to his mother’s side while she struggled her way through the service. It was awkward to walk among them. Some of them hadn’t even known Mark had had a boyfriend, and weren’t very good at hiding their surprise. Jack was in no mood to deal with this, so he spent most of his time sitting in the pews and looking at the mahogany box at the front of the room.

            The coroner had declared that Mark had been dead for roughly two weeks before he was found. Being dead for that long in the hot Middle Eastern desert did not a pretty corpse make, so he was cremated. They poured his ashes into a dark-wooded box with a silver latch, and they draped it in a triangular American flag and some rose petals. A posed picture of Mark was stood next to it. Jack supposed he’d been twenty-five when it was taken, because his hair was especially long and he still wore glasses. That was the way he’d looked when they first met.

            The only person that Jack personally invited to the funeral (with Mrs. Fischbach’s permission) was Kaley, because she was the only support he could think to talk to. She was in Ohio practically that night, equipped with a backless black dress and a keenness to stay by Jack’s side the entire night. He could barely go to the bathroom without having her there, and he was strangely grateful for it.

            The visitation was all kinds of awkward awful, so Jack was almost relieved when the funeral service began. (They decided to do it all in one day because there would be no burial.) The preacher walked up to the podium and addressed the mourners respectfully. He told stories that he’d pulled from Mrs. Fischbach and Thomas a few days prior. They hadn’t asked Jack to recount any, and that was fine by him. He’d used up all the good ones in his eulogy anyway.

            When the preacher finished his Hallmark piece about how good and noble Mark was even in the face of death, he cleared his throat and said, “I would now like to invite Sean McLoughlin to the podium. Sean?”

            Jack stood slowly, feeling every eye on him like a dumbbell. Kaley rose with him, like he’d asked her two, and the pair walked up to the preacher together. He nodded and stepped aside, standing in the corner and playing invisible.

            Jack walked robotically up to the microphone and stared out at the red-eyed mourners looking at him blearily. For a moment, Jack’s voice appeared to have left him completely. He felt a comforting nudge from Kaley and cleared his throat.

            “Um…,” he began intelligently. “Um…I—I was asked if I wanted to say a few words on…on Mark’s behalf.” He swallowed and glanced inadvertently back at the ashes. “I, uh, I knew I did, because he…well, because I know he’d want me too…. But I, uh, I went ahead and asked my friend Kaley here to come up with me and maybe, uh, maybe take over if I get too…y’know, _weepy_ to carry on.”

            A small chuckle rippled through the audience, and it encouraged Jack enough to keep going. “Anyway, so here, I, uh…here I go.”

            He looked at the paper he’d laid on the podium’s surface. It was handwritten, with some words scribbled out and notes written in the margins. It only then occurred to him that he should’ve rewritten it on new paper so that he could _fucking read his handwriting._

“Well, uh…you see, Mark was the first man I ever loved,” he began. When he’d been debating over how to start his spiel, he decided it was best to go ahead and get the gay thing out of the way early.

            “Mark brought out a side of me that I’d never seen before. He was always so funny and friendly. He made me excited to get out of the bed in the mornin’ and do stupid things like go to work or pay the bills, because he always had life in him. He…he treated me like I was the most wonderful person in the world.” Jack gulped, but he forced himself onward. It was too early to quit.

            “I met Mark at the GameStop where I work at. He came in to buy a game, and I sold it to him. He came back almost every day after that to ask me about somethin’, but he never bought anythin’. It was my coworkers who convinced me that he was flirtin’ and I needed to make a move.” A few people laughed again, which relieved Jack. At least they weren’t all horrified or something. “He was amazing. We had so much fun together, and we could talk about almost anythin’ without it bein’ boring or uninteresting. I loved every date that we went on.

            “I started thinkin’ to myself, ‘Mark is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.’ I could see myself spendin’ the rest of my life with him, and the idea didn’t scare me. He loved me for who I was, and I loved who he was too. But he started gettin’ more and more serious about the army, so…so we got focused on that, even though I didn’t want to and I was scared. I just…I wanted him to be happy, and so I helped him where I could, and I….” Jack broke off and dropped his head. Why was this so _goddamn hard_?!

            “And I…I should’ve stopped him, if I could, but you can’t change the past, I guess.” He was off-script now. He shivered and tried to keep reading. “Anyway, when I heard the news I couldn’t believe it, because I never thought someone as amazing and wonderful as Mark could possibly have passed away. When you meet people that full of life, you never think they’re going to go out like the rest of us.” Each word was driving a little further into Jack’s chest, and it felt like he was going to get punctured all the way through. His words were getting shakier, and it was obvious he was breaking down, but he forced himself onward. He’d say as much of this as he could. He owed Mark that at the very least.

            “Mark…I just wish we’d had more time,” he squeaked. “When I knew I loved you, I thought…I thought we’d have all the time in the world. I never thought about what could happen, or what could—” His voice fractured, and Jack ducked his head so that his tears didn’t drip all over it. He heard a soft “aww” from somewhere in the audience but didn’t look up to see who’d pitied him.

            He couldn’t do it. He gripped his hands behind his back until his knuckles were white. He couldn’t fucking do it.

            Kaley stepped in, scratching Jack’s back in an effort to comfort him. She carried on where he’d left off in a clear, strong voice.

            “I never thought about what could happen or what could get in the way,” she read studiously. “I forgot that life isn’t guaranteed, and I wish I had realized then just how precious time is. If I had known that our time together was short, I would have maximized it. I would never have fought you or canceled our plans. I would have told you I loved you every single night. I wouldn’t have hesitated so long on asking—”

            She broke off, her eyes widening in surprise. Jack glanced at her sideways, but she simply swallowed and went on in the same voice.

            “I wouldn’t have hesitated so long on asking you to spend the rest of your life with me, even though I wanted to. I would never have let fear stop me from following my heart.

            “Mark, if you can hear me, I want you to know that I love you, and that I regret every chance I never took with you. May you rest in peace, and may you have all of the things that you deserve. If there is a Heaven, then I pray every day that I’ll meet you there once again.”

            Kaley looked up and nodded at the mourners, who clapped softly. A few of them were crying. Jack covered his eyes shamefacedly with his arm, and Kaley took his elbow gently and lead them back to their seats, where Jack spent the rest of the service with his face cast down to the floor.

* * *

            “Are you sure you don’t want to come back to L.A. with me?” Kaley asked the next night.

            She and Jack had stayed at Mrs. Fischbach’s home, who assured them countless times that Kaley could spend the night rather than “throw money away at a cheap motel”. Now, over a cold cereal breakfast that no one was eating (on the first morning that Mrs. Fischbach hadn’t beaten Jack awake to make pancakes or omelets), Jack stared at her vacantly from across the table and nodded.

            “There’s nothin’ for me there but an empty apartment,” he said hollowly. “I’ll go back, get my stuff, quit my job, and hop on the first flight money can buy.”

            Kaley sighed, crestfallen. “Are you sure you don’t just want to move in with me permanently?” she whispered. “I liked having you around.”

            Jack felt guilty, but he shook his head. “Really, Kaley, thank you,” he said, trying to be sincere. “But I really can’t do it. It makes me feel sick and dizzy every time I think about walkin’ down those same streets that we used to go down, seein’ those same restaurants, those same shops, those people….” Jack almost dry heaved into his cereal at the mere thought of returning to the life that he and Mark had built together.

            Kaley looked sullenly into her cereal. “I understand,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

            Jack felt like a dick. To make up for it, he added, “Look on the bright side. I’ll still Skype you whenever I can.” He tried to sound bright and excited but instead resembled one in pain.

            Kaley half-smiled insincerely. “Thank you,” she murmured. “I’ll look forward to it, Jack. I’m gonna miss you.”

* * *

            As promised, Jack moved out of Mrs. Fischbach’s house, gathered the rest of his things from his and Mark’s shared apartment (a process that took so much energy and emotion out of him that it was a miracle he didn’t die on the living room floor), convinced the landlord to let him sell it back right on the spot (done mostly out of pity), and got on an early-morning flight to Ireland the very next day.

            He walked into the terminal, past the Starbucks and the cheesy souvenir and snack food stores and towards security. The rising sun glittered through the skylights above, leaving golden bands on the brown tile floor. Jack sat down on the bench in front of him and leaned jadedly on his knees, dipping his head into his chest. Every day it seemed like he was wearier and wearier, as though his energy was seeping out of him steadily with no way of recovering it.

            When Jack looked up again, he watched a man in a suit with a laptop case walk towards the security line. His hair was dark and wavy, and he walked with a tall, lilting gait that was highlighted by the sun leaking in from the windowpanes. Jack wondered why the scene looked so familiar to him, but then he remembered Mark spinning around on his heel and shooting him with a thousand-kilowatt smile, the kind of teddy-bear-grin that made people young and old believe that everything would be okay.

            _“I’ll Skype you as soon as I get out of basic, okay?”_

Jack squeezed his eyes shut against the agonizing memory. It was tainted now, just like all of the things he had once held near and dear. He curled his head in closer to his chest, gritting his face as tightly as he could. But there was no way to stop the tears from coming down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought this ending was a good idea but it's sad and I'm sorry
> 
> Angst is my specialty. It's also my curse. This was a pretty emotional ending. It was actually the one I was originally going to go with, but it's just so fucking DARK, and I wanted to reward my readers with a little prize for their pain with that fluff chapter. But I couldn't let this (extremely depressing) idea go, which is why I decided on alternate endings. It's up to you guys to decide which ending is canon. I really don't care which one you liked best, just so long as one of them fulfilled your little heart's desire.
> 
> Comments and constructive criticism are always appreciated! Just be polite. :)


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